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Bearded Guy: [referring to music on radio] I'm a songwriter. I wrote this, and I recorded it with a buddy down in Bakersfield. He used to have a studio, but he's dead now. Yeah... Somebody killed him for being selfish. Look, this song's called "Last Train to Trussburg." Do you think you could help me get it published? I mean... , look, you could sing it. Hell, you could even record it! Hey, I got words! Listen. [singing] Bearded Guy: Two-lane redwood highway, bumping along... Two-lane redwood highway, it's a song... Two-lane redwood highway, two-lane redwood highway... [abruptly stops singing] Bearded Guy: Oh, I think I might add a couple yippee-ai-yays to give it a cowboy feel. What do you say? Jack Potter: I don't sing other people's songs, you know? I'm a loner. You know what I mean. [he turns to walk away] Jack Potter: Is there a place around here a guy can take a pee? Bearded Guy: [angrily grabbing Jack and putting a knife to his throat] You think you're one bigshot singer, don't you? You think you're better than I am. Well, look out that window. What do you see? That's a two-lane redwood highway. I wrote that, huh? Two-lane redwood highway. You're selfish. That's what you are.